


Nothing Really Matters When We're Dancing

by transfixeddream



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:56:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixeddream/pseuds/transfixeddream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey," Tyler says, whispered just loud enough for Colton to hear him over the thump of the music. "Come dance with me."</p><p>Also posted <a href="http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/132528.html">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Really Matters When We're Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dephigravity, who prompted me Colton/Posey frottage. Um, it kind of escalated from there. Beta'd by the awesome forallthewords! <3

The beat of the club pounds loudly in Colton's ears, volume cranked way too high even for L.A., and he downs what's left of his rum and coke like it'll somehow drown out the music. His eyes feel heavy, and he really shouldn't have come out tonight at all, but Holland's nothing if not persistent. _Colton_ , she had said, lips pursed and channeling Lydia Martin completely, _You're now part of a hit show. You_ need _to be seen out at the clubs._ Even though nobody in this particular club seems to have any idea who he is--and he rolls his eyes at himself for even thinking he _is_ somebody--with the way he's only interacted with the people he came here with in the past hour.

Not that he's complaining, though. No, he's definitely okay with being ignored over being noticed, at least in a scene like this.

He's thinking of signaling the bartender for another round, until he sees how occupied the guy is with three girls with low cut, skin-tight tops. Instead, he turns to face the dance floor, trying to make out anybody he might know within the neon strobe lights. He finds Holland pretty quickly, dancing between two dudes who're at least a foot taller than her. She looks completely in her element, which is ironic considering nine times out of ten, Holland hates clubs even more than Colton does.

She catches sight of him pretty quickly, and she jerks her head in a way that can only mean, _quit being a party pooper and come dance_. Colton shakes his head with a small smile, and she pouts for all of a second before scrunching her red lips into a kiss. It's at that point that one of the guys gets between them and Colton loses Holland, only seeing her hand snake around the back of the dude's neck.

The bartender's finally done talking to the girls, so Colton flags him down before he can get distracted again and gets another rum and coke. He leans back against the bar, alternating between watching the dance floor and staring into his drink, swirling the ice around the glass. He's not used to playing the role of the bar creeper, who prefers to watch everybody else have fun rather than participate himself, but he's had four hours of sleep in thirty-six hours, and he's really not up for dancing for another four.

He's halfway through his drink and mentally figuring out how long he'd have to appear to have fun before Holland would let him leave without a lecture, when the dance floor clears a bit and Colton sees _him_. Chest bare and shirt tucked into his low hanging jeans, dancing arms-length with a girl whose dress sparkles under the lights, is Tyler fucking Posey.

Colton can't stop himself from smirking, mostly at the way Tyler's moving against the music, not with it, moves completely non-existent. He knows Tyler's in a band, though that's about _all_ he knows, but he wonders how right now, considering Tyler's not exactly hitting anything on beat. Tyler doesn't seem to care, though, because his face is split into a fat grin. He looks high on life (and, knowing him, probably a lot more) and just so damn pleased with himself, skin shining blue and pink and green as the lights flicker over his sweaty chest.

The more Colton watches, the more transfixed he gets. Tyler's moves are definitely not set to any music the club's playing, but there's a certain rhythm to his madness, like there's a song in his head and that's all he's focusing on.

And, _Jesus_. Colton barely manages to not snort out his rum and coke. He knows he's stared at Posey for far too long if he's starting to make sense of his stoned-out mind.

Except, he can't really stop watching. It doesn't even matter that Tyler's far from the only guy on the floor with his shirt off, or that he's dancing to his own music. When Colton scopes out the club, his eyes keep returning to Tyler, and at the way his arms flex as he moves them, the way his skin shines with a thin sheen of sweat. Colton's stomach is pulling weird, and he finishes his drink and orders another immediately, grateful for the one minute where he _can't_ stare at Tyler Posey.

He has his empty glass in one hand and a bill in the other, leaning over the bar, when he feels a wet, sticky hand slip under the hem of his shirt. Colton almost drops his glass as he pulls away automatically in response, turning to the source. He's not sure why, but it doesn't surprise him when it's Tyler's crinkled eyes he ends up looking into.

Tyler says something, and it doesn't matter that Colton can't hear him over the music; he can read his lips just fine. _Touchy_. Colton just shrugs in response, because Tyler's flashing him one of those easy smiles that tend to be his default, but for some reason right now seems special.

Colton doesn't like it.

Tyler says nothing as Colton pays the bartender and gets another drink. He doesn't even order anything, but he sticks by Colton anyway. They're not touching or anything, but Colton swears he feels the heat radiating off of Tyler anyway, warming his side. He takes a shallow drink from his glass and glances at Tyler, who in turn is just watching him, eyes half-lidded.

"What?" Colton shouts, after Tyler finally says something. Tyler repeats himself, but it's drowned out again; Colton doesn't even think he raised his voice. "I can't hear you!"

Before he knows it, Tyler's leaning into him and suddenly he's _right there_ , his breath warm against Colton's ear, his hand searing hot against Colton's hip. "I said," he starts, and Colton feels a chill run down his spine, "What are you drinking?"

It doesn't matter that Tyler was there to hear him yell out his drink order to the bartender. Colton still finds himself flushing, and he really has no fucking idea _why_. "Um," he says, then manages to shout the rest, though he doesn't really have to with Tyler's mouth still at his ear. "Rum and coke."

Without saying a word, Tyler takes his free hand and takes the glass from Colton. He takes one step back, hand still on Colton's hip, and drinks half of the glass in one swallow. He makes a face and wedges the glass back into Colton's hand.

"Tastes like shit!" he says, shouting this time.

Colton snorts and shakes his head. "Man, can you even tell at this point?"

Tyler laughs, dimples digging in deep at the sides of his mouth, but he doesn't answer, lets a grin do that for him. Briefly Colton wonders, not for the first time, if Tyler's face ever hurts from smiling so damn much. Colton looks down at his drink, because it's either that or look at Tyler--he's been doing okay with not staring blatantly at his chest so far, but he doesn't exactly trust himself to keep it up. And with Tyler hyper-focused on him at the moment, openly ogling would only lead him down a road full of very bad things.

Tyler, however, doesn't seem to be worried about keeping himself in line with Colton. His hand is still on Colton's hip, and Colton honestly _wants_ to remove it, but he's pretty sure that'll just make Tyler all the more likely to pick up on something. Which, by the way he's looking at Colton, maybe he's already picked up on. It's not like he doesn't know that Colton's gay or anything--even if he's not marching in pride parades, he had to at least be real with the people he's working with--so it's feasible.

It's also feasible that whatever Posey's on is making Colton look like a giant cupcake.

Tyler slides in close again, his hand edging upwards on Colton's side, pushing up shirt up as he does so. "Hey," he says, whispered just loud enough for Colton to hear him over the thump of the music. "Come dance with me."

Colton grins but it's completely forced, and he shakes his head. "Nah, man, I don't dance."

"Bullshit!" Tyler shouts, way too close to Colton's ear. Colton cringes, and for a brief second Tyler looks remorseful, but then it's replaced by another bright, lazy smile. "I know you do, dude. I've seen you. You've got some great moves."

"And you're a guy who decides who has good moves? Have you seen yourself out there? You're not exactly Michael Jackson."

"Well, yeah," Tyler says. "But it didn't stop you from staring, did it?"

Colton feels himself blush all over, skin growing hot. He's not entirely sure what to say--usually, when people call him out on anything, it's because he wants them to. He's not sure what he wants from Tyler. He runs a couple of explanations through his head, but none of them are even remotely decent, so he just finishes his drink and sets his glass down.

Tyler's watching him, eyes mostly steady on his face. His mouth's parted slightly, and he's running his tongue against his bottom lip, and it's way too much for Colton right now. The liquor is starting to work its magic and he feels hot all over, like he's wearing ten layers of clothes instead of a thin tee. Tyler, for his part, actually looks sober. And that's just not fair--Colton knows Tyler's had way more shit tonight than he has.

"It's okay, you know," Tyler says, after he gets that Colton's not going to confirm or deny the question. "I kinda like it when people stare."

He says "people," but some part of Colton replaces that with "you." _I kinda like it when you stare._ And--yeah, he's definitely had enough alcohol tonight.

"Dance with me," Tyler says again, and this time Colton just swallows and nods.

Colton lets Tyler half-lead half-drag him onto the dance floor, between the groups of gyrating bodies and under the strobe lights. He sees Holland, this time off to the side, talking to one of the guys she was with earlier, and she just raises her eyebrows when she returns his look. He's known her long enough to know what that one means, but he's going to ignore that for right now.

Tyler, of course, leads him to what seems to be the center of the floor, and when he lets go of Colton's wrist, he turns around and immediately drapes his arms on Colton's shoulders. Colton wants to push them off, because there's probably at least one person in this place who watches more than just "Jersey Shore" on MTV. But Tyler looks so good like this, happy and buzzed and--yeah, he's still dancing to his own song, but Colton doesn't really mind--and his arms are kind of a reassuring weight, so he doesn't.

"Come on, Colton," Tyler says, leaning in so he can whisper it in his ear. "I can't make us look good all by myself."

The problem with dancing to Tyler's music is that Colton can't actually hear inside Tyler's head, but he does his best to follow along anyway. He figures that not hitting Tyler's moves on cue is a little better than outright dancing to the music he actually _can_ hear. Tyler moves in closer, his groin dangerously close to Colton's, and if Colton wanted to, if they were somewhere more private, he could take those few inches himself, grind down against him. Tyler grins, slow and lazy as he backs up to a more respectable distance, and Colton wonders for a second if this whole thing is just a way to fuck with him. But then Tyler looks at him, really _looks_ at him, and Colton knows that's not the case.

Tyler's fingers catch under the neckline of Colton's t-shirt, and he knows what Tyler's trying to do before he feels the back of his shirt pull up. Colton grabs Tyler at the forearms and shakes his head, and Tyler stops immediately, but he makes an exaggerated pout.

"Just thought we could give them a show," he half-shouts, and then he's back to his sweet smile.

Right. A show. Colton can see the headlines now: _Stars of MTV's 'Teen Wolf' Caught Dancing Together Shirtless at Club._ He squeezes his eyes shut to rid himself of the thought, and when he opens them again Tyler's looking at him, oddly serious.

"What is it you're so scared of?" he asks, and Colton can't breathe for a second. This conversation is not happening in a crowded club, while he's mostly drunk and Tyler's half-drunk and fully high. "More people say they give a shit than those who actually do."

"I don't--" Colton starts, but he doesn't really know where he's going with it, so he lets it fall. _I don't know_.

"You need to relax," Tyler says. "Maybe self-medicate a little."

Colton snorts. "And how would do that? Follow in your footsteps?"

Tyler shrugs casually and smiles. "Hey, I'm very happy." He bites down on his lip and Colton's overcome with a sudden need to nibble at them. "Especially now," he adds, innuendo obvious.

It's something that Colton figures requires a response, so he says, "Me, too," and he's a little surprised to realize he means it. He's also a little terrified, obviously, because not jumping up to greet him does not necessarily mean nobody recognizes him, especially with the star of the show he's on draped around his shoulders. But... he doesn't feel awful. _Definitely_ not awful.

Tyler's quiet for a few moments, but he keeps his hands on Colton and he keeps dancing his own dance. And then, with an eloquence only Tyler Posey can manage, he says, "I need to take a piss."

It takes Colton by surprise and a laugh bubbles out of him. "Wow, okay. Well. Enjoy." Tyler smiles--maybe he just never stopped--but he doesn't start to move.

"You should come, too," Tyler says, eyebrows raised. And there's definitely no mistaking _that_.

And the kicker is, Colton wants to. More than anything, he wants to. He's never really considered it before, not with Tyler, because Tyler has a girlfriend-- _had_ a girlfriend, he reminds himself--and Tyler is a co-star and he knows not to fuck up shit like that. But all of this was before Tyler _propositioned him in the middle of a club_ , so... things have definitely changed.

"This isn't--" Colton starts. He cringes at what he was going to say, but then says it anyway. "This isn't a good place to do... that."

"Why not?" Tyler asks, a little too incredulously for his usual mellow tone.

Colton wants to hit him, just a little bit, because of course Tyler knows why. He just called Colton out on why less than five minutes ago. "It's not exactly a private place."

Tyler presses his lips together, then asks, "But do you want to?"

Maybe Colton should think it over, but he just nods. "Yeah, man, Christ I--Yeah, I wanna."

"Then do it," Tyler says without pause. "Just fuckin' do it. Screw these people, because none of them are gonna remember your face. You think they are, but man, they're _not_." He makes it sound so easy, and Colton knows from experience that it's not true. But he doesn't say anything, just lets Tyler continue. "Best way to relax? Do something you want, something fun, and for once don't worry about the consequences. And, dude, what I'm talking about-- _that's_ fun."

And the thing is, maybe Tyler has a point. It's not as cut and dry as he makes it out to be, but the point is there.

"Okay," Colton says, surprising himself with just how easy he gave in. By the look on Tyler's face, he's a little shocked, too. Briefly, Colton wonders if Tyler had more arguments prepared for him. He figures it doesn't really matter.

"Okay?"

"Okay," Colton repeats, and he nods just to emphasize the point.

Tyler considers him carefully, then nods himself. "Okay. I'm gonna go in now and you... can follow in a minute." He finally removes his arms from Colton's shoulders. "And Colton," Tyler says, eying him for a long, tense moment, "you are gonna follow, right?" Tyler's thumb brushes along the curve of Colton's hip, and there's no way he can refuse now.

"I'll follow," Colton says. Mostly because he needs to hear it himself. And when Tyler turns, satisfied, Colton counts to one hundred and then, true to his word, he follows behind.

There's nobody in the bathroom when he gets inside, Tyler included, and if it wasn't for the urinals, Colton might be worried he accidentally went into the women's instead. He wonders why walking into the women's bathroom makes him more nervous than heading into the men's for... well, he's not exactly sure what to expect, really.

"Tyler?" he hisses, and in return he gets Tyler's laugh and the creak of a stall door. Then Tyler's peeking out and Colton's stomach starts twisting in knots. Only, it's not fear or anything--more like anxiety, excitement. It's kind of fucking crazy. He's in an L.A. night club bathroom, about to have sex with his co-star who never really struck him as being into dick at all.

Tyler grips him by the front of his shirt and pulls him into the stall when he's close enough, and Colton crashes into him hard. Tyler's head barely avoids smashing into the wall, but he doesn't seem to care; he's laughing as he steadies himself, and he maneuvers Colton out of the way so he can safely shut and lock the door. He turns to face Colton, grinning like he's just won the lottery, and Colton can't quite remember why he thought this was a bad idea.

He's honestly a little surprised when Tyler doesn't immediately jump him, considering the way he yanked Colton into the stall in the first place. But now Tyler seems totally content to just watch Colton. It's kind of impossible for him not to flush when Tyler's looking at him like this, eyes holding so much heat. His grin slips away inch by inch, until it's merely a slight smile, and Colton swallows, feeling himself sober.

The first touch is slow; Tyler reaches between them and presses his fingers under the hem of Colton's shirt and leisurely slides them up, pushing the material and making contact with Colton's bare stomach. Tyler's fingers feel like fire on his skin, and Colton finds himself leaning into the touch as Tyler places his hand flat against Colton's abs. There's a smirk on Tyler's face now and Colton wants to kiss it off of him, so he does. He closes the space between them and slams their lips together.

Tyler makes a noise, some kind of little, happy surprised sound, and slides his hand farther up under Colton's shirt and kisses back. His tongue immediately comes out to swipe at the seam of Colton's bottom lip, and Colton groans a little, and opens willingly, meeting Tyler's tongue with his own.

Tyler's mouth is sticky sweet, some combination of pot and alcohol, and it's intoxicating at first taste. Colton backs him up against the door of the stall and Tyler goes willingly, hand steady under Colton's shirt. Colton wedges his knee between Tyler's legs, and he can feel the thick length of Tyler's cock, tight under the leg of his jeans. Colton was already well on his way to getting hard, but this new development takes him all the way in an instant, driven by the warm tongue that seems determined to map out every inch of his mouth.

"Shit, man," Colton says against Tyler's lips. It's probably unintelligible, but Tyler groans at that moment and lets his hand drag down Colton's chest and stomach, until it finds his erection pressing against his fly. Colton can't help but gasp back when Tyler wraps his fingers around it the best he can, a little too hard but totally perfect.

Not wasting time, Tyler gets both hands on Colton's fly and pops the buttons swiftly, mouth never losing rhythm with Colton's, and then Colton feels Tyler's fingers slip under the band of his underwear before they and his pants fall down to his knees. Then Tyler gets his hand on Colton's dick for real, and _fuck_ that's good.

Colton moans and breaks away from Tyler's mouth. He rests his forehead against Tyler's bare shoulder and brings his hands to the crotch of Tyler's jeans. He watches as he pops the button and pulls down the zipper, and he's greeted with short, dark hair. And, yeah, of _course_ Tyler wouldn't wear underwear to a club.

Colton freezes at the recollection of where he actually is--in a crowded club's bathroom, his pants sinking down to his ankles and his co-star's hand jerking his dick in easy motions. It scares him for a minute, but then Tyler breathes hot against his ear and rocks his hips into Colton's hand, and he snaps out of it.

Colton frees Tyler's dick in one smooth move, and Tyler hisses in response. His dick is hard and jutting up, slight curve to it, and Colton presses the base of his palm against it, wraps his fingers around the length a moment later. Tyler starts breathing shallower, his movements on Colton's dick getting faster, and Colton can feel himself already, knows it won't be long.

He captures Tyler's mouth in another crushing kiss, teeth banging together and hurting like fuck for a few brief seconds, before the swift pulls on his dick make it fade away. And it's good, so good. Colton's brain is barely focusing on anything but the slide of skin on skin, and he just wants to come, feel himself pulse in Tyler's hand. But then Tyler lets go of his dick and breaks the kiss, and Colton backs up a little.

"No," Tyler says, breathless, as if he knows exactly what Colton's thinking. He grabs the hem of Colton's shirt with both hands and pulls up, and Colton barely has time to duck his head before his shirt goes over it, settling at the back of his neck. Then Tyler says, "God, come here," and Colton complies, moving in close and then even closer when Tyler gets one hand on the cheek of his ass and pulls Colton flush against him. 

They're chest to chest, cocks trapped between their stomachs, and Tyler grinds against Colton, cocks rubbing together and sending sparks down Colton's spine. He bites his lip and places his hands on either side of Tyler's ass, fingers digging in--and Tyler's probably going to have the imprint of nails in the cheeks of his ass tomorrow morning, which only makes Colton's dick harder--pushing up as Tyler pushes down. The friction is fucking incredible, and Tyler's breathing against his ear and making soft, barely there moans.

Tyler lets go of Colton's ass and reaches between them to get both their dicks in his hand. It's not a great fit, truthfully, but then Tyler starts jacking them and _fuck_ , Colton doesn't even care. There's not much between them to make the strokes anything but dry, but Colton can't really bring himself to give a fuck about that, either. He gets lost in the slow, smooth pulls of Tyler's hand and his own thrusting against Tyler, and it's only when he feels the sudden build of his orgasm that his brain starts to think about anything else.

"I'm gonna--" Colton hisses, and Tyler nods once, eyes barely open.

"Yeah, me too, _fuck_ \--"

Colton comes first, eyes clenched tight and vision gone white, squeezing the cheeks of Tyler's ass, splashing come over Tyler's fist and on both of them. Tyler follows behind a few short seconds later, adding to the mess with a broken off _Fu--_.

He jerks them both through it, and Colton shallowly rocks their hips together, barely able to stand, much less keep a rhythm going. Tyler's not doing any better, really; his hand's just moving down the length of their dicks, uncoordinated and uneven, but it's nice. Feels amazing against Colton's now-sensitive cock.

They stay like that for a couple of moments, just working through the last bits of their orgasms, and then Tyler lets go of their softening dicks and Colton takes it as his cue to back up. Tyler picks up his shirt that must've fallen out of his jeans when Colton pulled them down, and hands it to Colton.

"Here, clean up."

"But," Colton starts, and Tyler smirks.

"You wanna be the one to go back out there without a shirt?" he asks, and he has a point. Colton takes the shirt and wipes the come off his stomach and chest, then passes it over to Tyler who does the same.

Colton brings his shirt back over his head, then pulls up his underwear and jeans, mindful of his still half-hard dick. When he looks back at Tyler, he's zipping up his fly.

"Now wasn't that more fun than spending the night worrying about what would happen if you actually did it?" Tyler asks, smug smile on his face.

 _Yes_ , Colton's brain supplies automatically, but it's still not back to fully processing the situation just yet. Tyler looks like he knows what Colton's thinking anyway, which just makes him smile wider. "Thanks," is all Colton says, and he's not even sure _what_ he's thanking Tyler for, but Tyler just nods his head.

"Anytime," he says. He licks the edge of his lip. "Seriously. _Anytime_."

Colton shakes his head a little, smiling as he watches Tyler unlock the door and slip out of the stall, chill as fuck. When Colton leaves the bathroom a minute later, he doesn't quite match Tyler's nonchalance, but nobody really keeps the same beat as Tyler anyway, so he figures it probably doesn't matter.


End file.
